An Immortal in the Realms II: Elversult
by Diviner
Summary: Highlander Forgotten Realms Louis L'Amour crossover The continuing adventures of Kendall Sackett in the Forgotten Realms.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Forward:

Well folks I have finally gotten around to starting the sequel to my story "Immigration." So far there is just the Prologue, but I should have more over the coming weeks. If anyone would like to volunteer to beta the coming chapters please email me at think you will find that this story is a little bit different then the last one, but hopefully just as entertaining. Kendall Sackett and his friends won't be appearing in the prologue but you will be seeing them real soon.

Disclaimers

The concept of Immortality as used here is originally the property of

Panzer/Davis and Rysher, I may have altered it a little to suit. Forgotten

Realms are owned by TSR publishing. The Cleric Quintet is a series of books

written by R.A. Salvatore and set in the Forgotten Realms. No copyright

infringement is intended. This story is free to read, and to share as long

as my pen name is attached to it. It is not intended for paid publishing in

any way.

Prologue:

The tavern was a dim and smoky place, but then again taverns all over the Realms where dim and smoky places. This particular tavern in Elversult was no exception. Maybe this tavern is a little seedier than most, but it was better than many.

In the back corner of the main tap room four people sat around a table talking in low tones. Although they were all human they appeared to be quite diverse each in their own way. The man currently speaking had a solid reliable look about him, fairly tall and well muscled he was just unfolding sheet of parchment from his vest pocket.

"So with the new recruits we have joining up, Kerrigan," he continued, "we are finding that we require further supplies." He handed the list across the table to another man.

The man named Kerrigan picked up the list and began to review the contents. It was mostly armor and weapons. A man of below average height and above average weight gave the merchant the appearance of a man who enjoyed his wealth and comfort.

"That's quite a list, Breggo," Kerrigan responds. "You know I'm not a weapons merchant, don't you? Why don't you simply supply these items out of your own shop?"

"I know," the man we now know as Breggo responds. "But the fact is you seem to be able to get these items cheaper and faster than I can. Also I simply don't have enough stock to cover what is on this list."

"Things are getting more and more dangerous out on the streets, and we need those weapons to help protect our homes and families. The Maces seem to have neither the time nor the will to deal with the situation." The Maces of Elversult was the organization that Breggo was referring to. The Maces, as they were known, were responsible for everything from repelling an invasion of the city of Elversult to maintaining the order in the streets, as the city watch would do in other cities.

The woman sitting immediately to Breggo's right spoke up.

"Breggo," she sighed "we both know that the Maces would deal the situation if they could. They simply don't have enough manpower. They lost too many people during the revolution last year. We should be supporting the Maces, not forming our own army to oppose them."

"I know, Ellen" Breggo replied. "But that is beside the point. The streets are getting more and more dangerous, and we need these weapons. The Maces are failing in their job. Besides, as long as I am in charge, our group will be NO threat to the Maces, or the city. This city is our home, Ellen, and I for one refuse to see everything we've worked to build here fall to ashes."

Ellen was a short woman dressed informally. An attractive woman, her clothing concealed a remarkably fit and trim form. She was absently toying with a disk of rose quartz that was hanging by a chain around her neck. The disk represented Lathander the Morning Lord. The God of Spring, dawn, birth and renewal. Ellen was a priestess of Lathander. Ellen tended to view the whole situation developing in Elversult far more optimistically than Breggo did. Perhaps that was due to her outlook as a priestess of Lathander, but in any event the main reason why she agreed to join Breggo in this endeavor was to try to curb some of her old friend's more stubborn behavior.

The last person seated at the table remained silent. He was there as Kerrigan's bodyguard, at seven inches over 5 feet, the middle aged man looked every inch the swordsman that Kerrigan hired him to be. And if Brandon Thorn had any opinions he knew when to keep them to himself.

Meanwhile Kerrigan was looking down the list, silently working out a total. Then he spoke a number to Breggo. Both Breggo and Ellen blanched a little bit, when Breggo responded.

"Just because I said you could get these items cheaper than I is no reason to try to up your prices." Breggo said. "I know that you could do a lot better then that."

"Okay," Kerrigan responds, "but because we are friends I can to let them go for…." Kerrigan spoke another slightly lower number.

Breggo responded "If we are such great friends, how about…." Breggo spoke a third much lower number.

Kerrigan laughed, "Friendship is one thing, but friends don't send friends to the poor house."

With that the two men entered into a long bargaining session on the prices. Finally when the price was agreed upon both men smiled and shook hands to seal the deal. With the deal done, both Ellen and Breggo depart.

With a happy sigh, Kerrigan summons over the serving wench and orders a pitcher of ale.

He turns to Brandon and says "I think that went well."

"Well?" Brandon asks. "I don't, see I know for a fact the price you just agreed upon was pretty much what you paid for these weapons in Westgate. So when you include the cost of bringing them all the way here by caravan, you've lost money."

"Ah, Brandon my man, listen close and learn." Kerrigan says expansively. "While it's true that I sold these weapons, and the weapons to the other groups in Elversult below my cost, you know as well as I do, these sales only cover a small part of my total supply."

"The rest," he continued "are going to our hobgoblin friends up in the Storm Horn Mountains. Those filthy creatures will pay 5 times what I'd normally get for them selling them here on the open market."

"But why bother going through all the trouble to manufacture this little civil war here in Elversult?" asks Brandon. "After all like you said, there is a lot more money to be made selling to the tribes to the north and to the south of us."

"The Iron throne has decided that it wants to be the merchant trading house that controls the route through the Storm Horn Mountains and up into the Cormyr and the dale lands beyond," replies Kerrigan. "What we do here will help secure the southern part of that route."

"The rulers of Elversult under that bitch Yanseldara have already become far more effective in slowing down our smuggling and weapons trading activities then the previous lot ever was. That will only get worse as she consolidates her power base here. The Iron Throne has decided that a government under the leadership of the Cult of the Dragon will more or less leave us to our own devices. That's why we've decided to give them the aid they need to seize power.

"Even if this little plot fails, the resulting chaos will only make it easier for us to operate, business as usual. All in all it is a win/win situation for the Throne." Kerrigan finishes.

Brandon considers Kerrigan's words. There is one risk that Kerrigan either fails to recognize, or has been ignoring. That is what happens when and if Kerrigan's role is discovered. The reputation that he spent years building here and along this route would be wiped out over night, while the Iron Throne is left pretty much untouched. That would make Kerrigan the perfect fall guy for an operation like this one.

'Oh well," Brandon thinks to himself, 'If Kerrigan really does blow this operation that will only make room for some new to step in and take over.' Brandon has only been working for Kerrigan for a couple months, but he already felt he had a good feel for this business, and he's had a hell of a lot more experience in trading weapons, drugs and slaves then Kerrigan has ever had.

'Let the fat fool brag all he wants,' Brandon thinks to himself, 'I know were the money is hidden.'

"I guess you are right," Brandon responds after a minute or two letting none of his thoughts show on his face, "this is a win/win situation."

Kerrigan rewards Brandon Thorn with a cunning smile.


	2. Spirit Soaring

Author's Forward:

Here is the first Chapter of my second major story. As you have probably read in the Prologue, it looks like things are beginning to happen in Elversult, the home of Renley and his friends.

If anyone would like to volunteer to beta the coming chapters please email me at concerns and questions are welcome comments deemed malicious will be filed in the appropriate place.

Disclaimers

The concept of Immortality as used here is originally the property of Panzer/Davis and Rysher, I may have altered it a little to suit. Forgotten Realms are owned by TSR publishing. The Cleric Quintet is a series of books written by R.A. Salvatore and set in the Forgotten Realms. The character of Kendall Sackett is loosely based on the Sackett family first introduced by Louis L'amour in his western novels. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is free to read, and to share as long as my pen name is attached to it. It is not intended for paid publishing in

any way.

Chapter 1:

For such a small person she certainly was an aggressive fighter. I quickly dropped into a defensive stance. She came in fast and hard, our arms met in a flurry of punches and blocks. I dropped quickly doing a reverse leg sweep, which she jumped over easily. I figured on this of course, after weeks of sparing with Danica here at Spirit Soaring, I knew she would easily avoid something like this, but in doing so she moved perfectly into position for my real strike.

I reversed the kick and struck upwards, striking the woman on her descending left thigh. I would need to capitalize on this quickly, because I knew from experience that she could recover from a strike like this extremely quickly. In a flash I was back on my feet, Danica was recovering, but not as quickly. Now I went on the offensive, Danica was still favoring her left leg slightly I managed to sneak one or two blows through her weakened defenses before the fight was over. I realized it was over because I was suddenly looking up at the sky as the ground rushed up to meet my back, and the air was forced from my lungs as I struck the ground. That supposedly weakened left leg struck me right in the jaw.

In an instant, Danica was over me, her open palm stopping an inch from the bridge of my nose. The message was clear. I lost, again.

"I yield." came a gasping voice I recognized as my own.

I stood up, slowly suddenly feeling every one of my advancing years. Danica smiled at my apparent stiffness. I may only look 33 years old, but in reality I just turned what should be an impossible 153 years old on my last birthday. Well not so impossible if you are an Immortal like me. My name is Kendall Sackett, I was born in Tennessee 153 years ago, and that's part of a country called the United States on another world called Earth. I've lived in many different places during my life, the most unusual of which was this magical forgotten realm, which I found myself in now.

"That's three falls out of ten," Danica said. "I never used to have this kind of workout before you arrived here." Danica belonged to the order of the Talbot monks. This order was this world's answer to the Shaolin monks of Earth. Danica was a master of their Open handed fighting style. She first came here to spirit soaring to study the ancient writings of her Order.

Actually, Spirit Soaring was a place of scholarly study for priests and followers of many of the religions of this world. The place was actually a temple dedicated to the God Denier, but the main feature that drew so many from so many different faiths was the great library.

The library was the centre piece of the whole place, a huge circular building of multiple levels with flying buttresses and huge windows to catch the sunlight. And all through out there was literally hundreds of book shelves, containing books and scrolls from all over the world all meticulously filed and maintained by Denier's priests, and open nearly all of any faith who agree to come here for peaceful study.

My companions were actually coming to this place from their home city of Elversult, on a quest of some importance. Apparently a group, called the Cult of the Dragon, has been attempting to seize control of that city. The Cult as I understand it is a group fanatics dedicated to the worship of Evil Dead Dragons. Now I'd never seen a Dragon, and normally I'd be skeptical about such a beast, but since landing in this world I've witnessed real magic that's not quickening related, I've fought several different types of monsters including a half-demon Cambion, and I've even met a real God. So I suppose something like a Dragon shouldn't be that much of a stretch of the imagination.

"Yeah, thanks," I respond. "But let us not forget that's three falls for me, and seven for you."

Danica laughed, "That may well be, but your fighting style so quite different than anything developed by my order, I've learned quite a bit at your hands."

"As have I from you," I respond.

"Shall we try again," I invited. The good thing about an immortal healing factor is that things like a little shot to the jaw like I just received tended to be only a minor inconvenience.

"Thanks, but I think our time for this morning, is drawing to a close." Danica said as she glanced past me.

Looking in that direction I was greeted by the sight of Renley leaving the main guest dormitories, armed, armored and carrying my accursed mail shirt, and shield over his arm. Don't get me wrong, my armor wasn't carrying a magical curse or anything like that, quite the contrary, indeed the enchantment it did carry added to the protection offered by the platemail itself. It was both lighter and more flexible then the same armor would be without the added enchantments. I just hated wearing it. It shifted my center of balance, and many of the sword moves I perfected over the last century and a half just could not be carried off wearing it.

I had to admire Renley though; the Paladin took it upon himself to see that I was properly familiarized with the care, maintenance, and use of such armour. Actually the armour itself came from my battle with that Black Demon warrior knight, which was actually called a Cambion I met on the trail to Spirit Soaring. Renley showed me how, by using a mixture of sand, water and vinegar in a barrel, that black paint could be stripped from the armour to reveal a shimmering coat of mail underneath. How I felt about the demon knight's sword on the other hand was a different story.

The sword itself also had to be cleaned of black paint, but underneath the paint it revealed a beautiful blade of mystical origin. It was a longsword the same length as the blade I brought with me from home. The workmanship of the blade was as good as anything that could be made back home, but with the added bonus of being enchanted. The blade would never dull or nick as long as the enchantment remained strong, and it was especially enchanted to battle dragons. On top of all that the sword was also sentient, it could speak it to me through throbs and tingles when I grasped the hilt. The sword had the ability to detect both evil and good, but was neither evil nor good itself, and would reject anyone that was too pure either way, a fact it painfully demonstrated to Renley when he attempted to grasp the hilt. The sword seemed to accept me as its master without a problem.

"Kendall Sackett," began Renley formally, "It's time for us to practice sword work using your armour."

I sighed heavily. I really disliked this stuff, but I suppose that I should get this over with, because it looked like that armour and I would have a long relationship together.

"I can appreciate your dilemma," chuckles Danica. "But luckily for me our order prohibits all but the most basic, padded armour, and then only for training and for initiates and novices."

Danica turns and reaches for a package she brought with her to our morning sparing session. "I've discussed this with Cadderly, and by way of thanks for all the training, I've brought you a little something."

She hands me the package, it's wrapped in oil cloth and tied with a cord, and weighs a couple of pounds. I look at her speculatively.

"You didn't have to do this," I said. "I learned just as much from you if not more then the other way around. I was honored to be given the opportunity." And I was too Danica's skills on open hand techniques easily rivaled that of Chin-Pao, my first teacher.

We first started sparing together a few days after my companions and I first arrived here at Spirit Soaring. I came out of the guest dormitories early one morning to notice Lady Danica practicing some rather unique martial arts katas. After observing for a while I offered to join her. We soon became good friends, and later when Denier departed his mortal avatar signalling the end of the Time of Troubles, I became a friend of her husband Cadderly as well.

I untied the string binding the package, and unfolded the oil cloth. Inside was what appeared to be a heavy coarsely knitted sweater of some kind. Only it wasn't made of wool, the thread appeared to be fine strands of metal knitted together like someone would knit a wool sweater. As I unfolded the sweater armour, for lack of better term, I could see that it was originally designed for someone of shorter stature then I but who was much thicker and broader then I was through the chest and shoulders that I would probably ever be. The sleeves were probably mid length, probably only coming to the middle of my forearm. There were two tails on the left and right hand side of the shirt that hung down with laces on them, probably for wrapping around the wearer's legs. The v-neck also had laces allowing the wearer to close the shirt right up to the neck, and short collar that offered some protection to the throat.

"Cadderly tells me that the sages who researched this item back when it was stored at the Edificant Library determined that this was probably constructed by the Duergar, the Gray Dwarves of the Underdark. It was constructed of pure mithril, and offers all the protection a full suit of field plate armour would." Danica said. "They believe that it is supposed to be worn it under your normal clothing."

"A princely gift, Lady Danica," said Renley whistling. "Ken, why don't you go and try the armour on?"

I nodded numbly to myself, and after thanking Danica for the gift, I returned to my room to try it on under my clothes but over my small clothes. As I suspected, there was lots of room in the chest and shoulders, so much so that the sweater hung down almost to my thighs. I laced up the tails loosely around my thighs, and got dressed once again. While I could feel the armour on me, it didn't seem to restrict my movements much at all. I suspected that the armour would offer someone of dwarf stature protection from the neck to the wrists and down to the ankles. On me the armour reached down just below my elbows and just below my knees.

I returned to the training field where Renley and Danica were waiting for me. I performed a few stretches, and some open hand katas to test out my range of movement. It would take a little getting used to, but I could definitely live with this.

"This is great, Danica!" I exclaimed. "I simply cannot thank you enough for this. Not only is this a great gift, you've freed me from the burden of that awful mail suit."

"What do you plan to do with this platemail?" Renley asks. "It is yours you won it fair and square by defeating the Cambion. An enchanted suit of armour such as this would fetch a good price at market."

"Actually, I thought I would give it to you," I said to Renley. "You've done so much for me since I arrived here, not to mention all patience you've showed me while trying to teach me about armoured combat. I think it is a fair repayment."

"I am honoured," said Renley as way of thanks.

With our early morning sparing sessions now completed, the smells of dawnfry are heavy on the air. I walk with my friends over to the dining hall, for an early breakfast. As we enter the hall, the Bouldershoulder brothers, Ivan and Pikel, are there serving out the morning meal to a long line of Priests and Brothers from various religious dominations. There is fresh bread, eggs, fried pork, as well as apples and oatmeal.

I gather together a tray of food for myself and go over to long table where the rest of our friends are seated. I take a seat on the bench beside Morgellyn, the beautiful Elvin woman that I have grown so close to over the last few months. Her half brother Stannul is seated across the table from me. Beside him is Marin the priestess, and Lucuis the bard. Dorien the mage is seated on the other side of Morgellyn. Renley sits down on the bench next to me, and Danica takes a seat next to Stannul.

"Good Morning," Morgellyn says to me in that musical voice. "How was your workout this morning?"

"Great, three falls out of ten," I said.

"I thought the idea was to get better," chuckled Stannul. "Didn't you get five or six falls when you first started working out with Danica?"

"The first few times Kendall Sackett and I worked was unfamiliar with his fighting style," Danica stepped in. "Thus he was better able to surprise me and take the advantage. But since then I have learned much about his fighting disciplines."

"Disciplines?" asked Dorien. "I thought there was just one type of Open hand fighting."

"Saying that is like saying there is just one type of sword, or one type of magic." I responded, "Personally I have studied three different open hand styles, four not counting what I learned here from Danica. Back home I've studied Tai-chi, Kung-Fu and Aikido."

"Indeed," Danica said. "If Kendall wanted to, I imagine that if he devoted himself full time to the study of his disciplines, he would very soon hold the rank of master. In what ever martial order would have him. Unfortunately, he seems too attached to his sword for that to happen."

The rest of my companions reflected on Danica's words for a minute. Then in a change of topic Morgellyn speaks up.

"There is word from the alchemist," she starts, "The potion is complete, and he will be bottling it today. Once it is bottled, we should be able to return to Elversult."

"That is good," remarks Renley, "We've been gone a long time, and it will take nearly a month to get back."

"Yeah," replies Lucius, "Things were starting to get tense before we left, now with the Time of Troubles and everything else, I hope we won't be too late."

The trouble in Elversult they were referring to was a perceived attempt by the Cult of the Dragon to seize power in the city. Rumour had it that the Cult had moved something called a Dracolich into the area, in order to succeed in their attempt to seize control of the city. Renley and my other companions were dispatched by the leaders of that city in an attempt to discover any useful information or if possible a weapon that could be used against the Dracolich.

Now don't ask me what a Dracolich is, because I have no idea. When I asked Morgellyn, she told me that a Dracolich was an undead evil dragon. Apparently normal dragons were practically un-killable when they are alive fighting them when they are already dead is something all together worse.

In any event, research here at Spirit Soaring uncovered a useful potion that could be used against such a beast. Apparently an apprentice of Sammaster the founder of the Cult, devised a potion that would destroy a Dracolich. The works by splashing some of it on the beast, and it thereby creates a link between the undead creature and the positive material plane. Which as I understand it is supposed to be very bad for the undead creature. The potion itself is difficult to brew, contains a number of rare and expensive ingredients and requires nearly a month to complete properly.

I think magic is starting to give me a headache.

Originally, there was supposed to be enough of the potion created to fill 4 potion bottles, unfortunately one of the potion batches fouled before it could be completed and had to be disposed of. That left three bottles of the potion that Cadderly would be presenting to Renley this afternoon.

Now that the potion was ready, everyone in the party was chomping at the bit to be on the trail once again, even Dorien.

"I'm finished here," Dorien said. "I've added several new spells to my spell book, now I need to time to properly absorb them. Besides I've had just about enough of all this religious mumbo jumbo to last me for a while." The egotistical mage, made no secret of the fact that he believed the road to true magical power lay with being a mage. While he sometimes found clerical magic useful, especially when it healed his wounds, he still considered priests such as those in Temples like this one cheaters at magic. True practitioners such as him didn't need to beg or borrow magic from greater cosmic beings like the Gods, a true practitioner wielded magic himself.

After further discussion, we decided that we needed to get back to Elversult as quickly as possible. We all knew that the date of our departure was rapidly approaching, and we started preparing for the journey over the last few weeks. Saddles were repaired, horses where examined, their shoes replaced where needed. Travel clothing was repaired or replaced.

In my case, I purchased a brand new mount, saddle, tack and harness. My new horse, a gelding, was the colour of buckskin I named him "Buck." Buck was trained to be guided both by the reins and by knee pressure for when you needed to keep your hands free for combat. While buck was not nearly as massive a steed as Renley's heavy war horse, Buck had long legs and was built for speed. I had spent the last few weeks getting to know Buck, and I think we had become good friends.

After I had expressed interest in learning to use a bow, Stannul took it upon himself to teach me everything I needed to know about archery. We travelled to the nearby town of Caradoon to purchase a bow. There, with Stannul's advice, I purchased a long composite bow, and a score of arrows. While what I purchased was the best of what was available, Stannul merely called it "serviceable."

With Stannul's help it wasn't long before I was a fair hand with this bow. I've always had very good hand eye coordination, and I was very good with a pistol, my .357 still sat securely under my shoulder, or any type of long gun.

"So it's agreed then," Renley said, "we leave tomorrow just after dawn for Elversult."


	3. Arrival in Elversult

Author's Forward:

Here is the second Chapter of my second major story. Now Kendall and his new friends have arrived back in Elversult, and they are just beginning to see the scope of things that are facing their home.

If anyone would like to volunteer to beta the coming chapters please email me at concerns and questions are welcome comments deemed malicious will be filed in the appropriate place.

Disclaimers

The concept of Immortality as used here is originally the property of Panzer/Davis and Rysher, I may have altered it a little to suit. Forgotten Realms are owned by TSR publishing. The Cleric Quintet is a series of books written by R.A. Salvatore and set in the Forgotten Realms. The character of Kendall Sackett is loosely based on the Sackett family first introduced by Louis L'amour in his western novels. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is free to read, and to share as long as my pen name is attached to it. It is not intended for paid publishing in any way.

Chapter 2:

'So, this is Elversult.' That was the first thought that came into my head as the walls of the city came into sight. It had been a long ride from Spirit Soaring, instead of retracing our route directly north back the way we came, we chose an alternate route home. First we struck east from the Library until we left the mountains near Caradoon, then we headed north east across the Shining Plains until we reached the Long Arm River. We followed that around the north shore of the Lake of the Long Arm. Apparently Renley's ancestral home was located at the other end of that lake, where the river continued on at a place called Long Arm Ford.

Once we passed the Northern shore of the Lake of the Long Arm we picked up the road from Starmantle to Teziir. From Teziir we headed west back to Elversult. Apparently although this route was longer than the one they took to Spirit Soaring, the better terrain and the fact we were able to use a road for part of the journey actually made this route faster.

The most unusual thing that happened on the journey was when a group of insect people tried to kidnap Morgellyn from the party. The Thri-Kreen, as I found they were called later, either has a taste for or a grudge with Elves. Heck maybe both. They were strong agile warriors with a hard chitin outer layer that provided them protection like a human's armour. They were able to dodge the arrows from our bows, and they could leap into and out of close quarters with ease. Fortunately they were just as susceptible to fire from my .357 as anyone else. We made short work of them.

On another occasion we passed a hunting party of nomadic Centaurs. They lingered briefly, probably to assess the possible threat our party could have to their clan in general, but they quickly moved on once Renley identified himself as a Paladin of Torm. If a few months ago, you'd of told me I'd be riding a horse across a primitive world swapping traveling directions with a passing Centaur while riding with a full blooded elf, and dodging groups of oversized bugs, I would have thought you would be a candidate for the nut house. The diversity of life in this world was just amazing.

Along the road to Teziir, there were signs of bandits, but they showed little interest in our group. They must have figured our party looked to well armed and too experienced to be the easy prey. Not to mention the fact that there were none of the fat slow moving wagons you'd find in a merchant caravan that would promise a bandit wealth and riches. For the most part we passed unmolested.

Teziir was a sprawling un-walled city made up of teaming slums next to soaring temples, and merchant compounds. The people walking the street had a furtive look about them, as if they have expected to be jumped around the next corner.

Then there was the watch of Teziir. How can you describe such a fat slovenly useless looking collection of people who are supposed to be responsible for keeping the peace? At least twice I saw drunken brawls erupt from taverns out into the street. The first time the watch was there egging on the brawlers, and the second time both brawlers were watchmen. We only spent one night in Teziir before we were on the road again the next morning to Elversult.

Elversult, in contrast to Teziir, was a much different city. Although not as large, Elversult itself was surrounded by a high wall. It was early afternoon when we finally arrived at the Eastern gates of the small city. The guards at the gates appeared to be more alert then anything I saw from the watch in Teziir, and they appeared to be better armed and equipped as well.

Morgellyn had told me during one of our many talks that the obvious prosperity of Elversult was due to the fact that it was a crossroads for three major caravan trade routes. Routes to the north lead up through the Storm Horn Mountains to Northern Cormyr and the Dale lands beyond. To the east the routes lead to the sea ports Teziir and the much larger Westgate. But the far the most important trade route was to the west. This caravan route was pretty much the only trade route between the Inner Sea areas and the people who lived on the western coast of this continent.

The commander of the guard at the gate recognized Renley and other members of the party immediately. He welcomed them back to Elversult. After a few words of greeting, Renley asked the captain to pass word along to the watch commander Pierstar that we had arrived back in the city.

As we left the gates, Renley led the party across the city to the inn where we would be making our home over the next several weeks. Elversult was not as large as Teziir, but it appeared to have the makings of a well run city-state. I did notice that here and there, there were groups of men armed and armored and wearing different colored and stylized armbands patrolling some of the streets. This was in addition to those I saw wearing the two crossed maces tabard of the city watch.

I moved over next to Morgellyn, "What's with the guys with the armbands?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Morgellyn, frowning. "They weren't around when we left a few months ago."

"They have the look of private militias," I said. "From what I have seen there are at least three different designs of armbands. That probably means there are at least three different militias operating in the city."

"I'm wondering why Yanseldara would allow such groups to operate inside the city." She responded.

Yanseldara was the ruler of the city. Morgellyn had told me some of the more recent history of Elversult over the last few tendays we were traveling. Apparently, Yanseldara came to power here about a year ago at the head of a popular revolution. The previous government was extremely corrupt, so much so that the normally apathetic people of the city rose up against them. Now Yanseldara was attempting to build a close knit law abiding community, while she had the support of the people, certain forces like the Cult of the Dragon would like nothing more than to return to the previous more Cult friendly government.

We had traversed the entire width of the city coming to the Western Gate of the city before Renley turned through a small set of gates into and enclosed yard of a rather prosperous looking in called "The Sword and Scabbard." The yard was on the left hand side of the inn proper. As we entered the yard, on my left there was a line of privies, probably used by both the staff and patrons of the Inn. The right side wall was actually the wall of the inn itself. There was a door leading into the interior of the inn, and further down the wall was a series of small barred windows. The Inn was a two story building, the lower floor containing the taproom/bar as well as living areas for the owner and staff. Attached to the rear of the inn was a large single story extension containing the kitchen. The aroma of fresh breads and cooking food floated on the air coming from this open building.

At the far end of the yard was a good sized barn for stabling horses with a hayloft above. On a couple of side buildings in front of the stable was an active black smithy. As I rode up to the stables I could see inside as a rather large man was beating a glowing strip of metal into a horseshoe. On the far side of the barn were two large storage sheds. A covered well was nestled between the smithy and the main entrance to the barn.

Currently a wagon loaded with hay was parked in front of the storage sheds, and two men were throwing the hay bales from the back of the wagon through the second story doors to the hayloft. All in all this looked like a very neat and tidy operation, something that would not have been all that out of place in my world back when I was a child.

We unloaded the horses, and stabled them in the barn, and walked towards the inn proper. We walked in through the door into a large room. In front of us, scattered around the room was a collection of round tables, along the far wall was a collection of high backed booths. Immediately to our right in the corner was a low stage where currently a minstrel was playing rousing tune on a lute and singing for the crowd. Apparently it was the tale of some noble knight attempting to rescue a woman of dubious moral character from the attentions of a lecherous suitor. It was quite funny.

The inn was run, according to Morgellyn by a Dwarf by the name of Theros Steelshanks. I would have to assume that the Dwarf in question was standing behind the bar off to my right, currently engaged with what seemed to be a rather heated conversation with a fairly tall well muscled man wearing a red armband on his sword-arm.

"Come on, Theros," the man said, "this city's crime problem is striking closer to home all the time. Right under this very roof even! And where were the Maces?"

The man's voice was rising as he grew more strident in his tirade, "I'll tell you where they were, the good ones were off on the other side of the city dealing with something else, while the rest of the buggers were sitting around with the thumbs up their arses."

"I'll mind ye not to come in here and raise ye voice at me," said the gruff sounding dwarf, "I was around in this city when ye biggest concern was wiping ye runny noise. Ye know ye still ain't so big I can't knock ye down a peg or two, Breggo!"

"My apologies," replied Breggo in a somewhat calmer voice. "But you know I am right about this. The Maces are undersized and under strength. Things are getting worse out there, and something has to be done. That's what we're doing, something to help out."

"Aye lad," said Theros, "I can see that, but am not ready to give up on Yanseldara, just yet. Besides, I have my own bouncers and lads to keep a lid on things here, and I'm not nearly so old that I can't still swing a mean axe."

"At least consider what I had to say," Breggo said with a sigh. "We could certainly use someone of your skill and experience."

"Bah," said Theros, "Ye go and play at being a watchman I've got a business to run and customers to keep."

The man turned and walked towards the main doors leading to the street. Obviously preoccupied he brushed right by Lucius as he headed to the door without even noticing him at all.

"Renley, you over stuffed prig of Paladin," shouted Theros. "I see ye are back from ye travels. All alive and well I see, with a new face in the mix too."

"You pickin up more strays again, Ranger?" he laughed as he turned to Stannul. Obviously he was referring to my presence among the companions.

Taking this as a cue, I stepped forward and offered my hand to the dwarf.

"Name's Kendall Sackett," I said as stepped forward to offer the typical wrist to wrist hand shake greeting of this world. "And as for being a stray, I imagine that is as best an explanation as any."

"Hey, you grumpy dwarf," spoke up Lucius, "we have been standing her almost five minutes now, looking parched and dusty, and you have yet to offer us an ale." The bard managed to pin a look of outrage on his face. "Where is that famed dwarven hospitality that everyone always talks about?"

"Maybe hospitality ye right out the front door with the toe of me boot, ye good fer nothing singer," grumped the dwarf as he moved behind the bar.

At first I thought that the dwarf would look ridiculously short standing behind the bar sized for humans, and then Theros stepped up upon a plank, bringing him up to more of a conversational level with his customers.

Without further prompting, the dwarven bartender quickly served six mugs of ale from an open cask behind him, and poured one cup of wine which was apparently for Dorian.

Marin, who was the unofficial money handler of the group stepped up the bar and negotiated rooms for the party. Renley, Stannul and I would share one room, while Marin and Lucius shared a second. Morgellyn and Dorian each got their own rooms, the former because she was the only single female and the later because he insisted that he needed the solitude for his studies.

Once everyone had their gear settled upstairs in their respective rooms, we all settled around a table in the main taproom downstairs. When Theros came over to refill our mugs and take our order for supper, Lucius broached the subject of what was happening when we walked in.

"Its all about human impatience if ye ask me," begins Theros. "I'm a guessing they're expecting Yanseldara to fix everything overnight, now that it looks like the lass can't fix everything they go and form their own private version of the watch to patrol the streets around their homes and businesses."

Apparently, according to the dwarf, the local crime rate in Elversult has been on the rise for quite sometime. There were reports of citizens being attacked and robbed and even killed in the streets and in their homes. The first of these groups were formed not long after Renley and his friends left on their mission to Spirit Soaring. They call this neighbour protecting neighbour. Now there were several of these groups operating all over the city. It's gotten to the point that now these groups have been clashing over control certain neighbourhoods. Rumours are running all over the place that these groups are nothing more then fronts for secret societies and criminal organizations, like the Cult of the Dragon or even the Harpers.

The city watch, called The Maces of Elversult, have been chronically undermanned for years, and that's only become worse since Yanseldara came to power. Pierstar, the new commander of the watch, has been cleaning out the most corrupt elements of the Maces, further reducing the available man power to patrol the streets. They have had neither the time nor the man power available to police these private armies.

The worst part about all of this was that these groups were becoming better and better armed blood was now being shed in the streets, and the Maces were just too busy putting down petty crime and squabbles to effectively put down these groups. Ironically, these citizen protection groups which were intended to help protect the citizens have only made a bad situation worse. All in all, it was a sign that the popularity that Yanseldara gained when she swept to power the previous year was vanishing like smoke on the wind.

"How does Breggo fit into all of this?" asked Lucius. "I know the man, and I can't see him becoming involved with criminals or even the Cult of the Dragon."

"Breggo," began Theros, "went and got hisself his own group. He partnered up with an ole adventuring friend of his, from back before he settled down. She's a priestess from one of the shrines over on Temple hill. Anyway they call their little army the Overmoor Trail Protective Group."

"I know that Breggo carries weapons in his store," inquired Renley, "do you think he could be behind all those weapons now appearing on the street?"

"Bah," grunted the dwarf, "I've seen the cheap pig iron swords these citizen groups are carrying. Breggo, may be a lot of things, but he he's a warrior, so he knows enough not to rely on a cheap sword in a fight. His store has nothing but the good stuff, the crap being passed off as swords in the streets these days aren't fit to air out a stinkin Orc's skull."

"Won't a cheap sword kill someone just as dead as an expensive one?" asks Dorian, as someone who obviously wasn't all that familiar with swords.

"Aye," said the dwarf, "but that sword is just as likely to get ye killed in a fight, when it shatters on a shield or another sword."

As Theros departed with our dinner orders, I could see on the faces of my friends that the home coming they have just received wasn't what they were hoping for. It seemed to me that Renley's friend Yanseldara's hold on power in Elversult might be slipping through her fingers, along with the dream of a close knit law abiding community.

'So this is Elversult,' I thought once again to myself.


End file.
